In and Out of the Dark
by steel-trap
Summary: A collection of drabbles about the love lives of my favorite characters: Roy/Riza, Edward/Winry, Alphonse/Mei, Maria/Denny, etc. 'Brotherhood' compliant. Rated M for various words and actions.
1. Weakness

**Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.**

**This is what happens when I get sick and watch all of FMA: Brotherhood in roughly 4 days: I start writing weird little drabbles about the love lives of my favorite characters post-series. I blame the DayQuil.**

**Please enjoy this first installment! A little Royai for you...**

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_1. Weakness_

Like so many nights before, it was his labored breathing that woke her. Still half-asleep, she reached over to the bedside table and tugged the lamp string, flooding the messy room they shared several nights each week with light. She propped herself up on her elbows and glanced over at him, sighing when she saw the state of him: gasping and shaking, eyes squeezed shut, his knees curled into his chest and his arms locked around his pillow. She sat up, kicking the sheets to the end of the bed as she did so; they were soaked with his sweat

"Roy," she whispered, gently rubbing her hand up and down his back. "Come back, Roy. Come back to me…"

Her words took a moment to reach him, wherever he was—probably Ishval, but it could have been any number of hellish places—but finally his eyes shot open. He sat up quickly, growling low in his throat as he scanned his surroundings for any potential danger. Riza reached out and touched his shoulder. He flinched, rounding on her with wild eyes and a raised fist. But then he recognized her.

"Riza," he whispered, his shoulders drooping in relief. "I'm sorry, I—"

"It's all right." She gently combed his bangs away from his clammy forehead. "Don't apologize."

His cheeks suddenly turned pink and he scowled, looking away from her. It embarrassed him, to wake her in the night like this. She knew that. She didn't understand why, but she knew. Rolling her eyes, she traced his jaw with the tips of her fingers and tilted his face until his eyes met hers.

"Stop that." She smiled sleepily at him. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."

He did not return her smile. "Easy for you to say."

Riza said nothing, just went back to fussing over his hair. He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at the wall. They remained like that for a time, with Riza waiting for Roy to speak and Roy feeling too self-conscious to do so. But eventually he sighed. He leaned into her, resting his head in the crook of her neck. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head.

"I'm thirty-one years old and I still have nightmares." He chuckled humorlessly. "How pathetic."

"You've been through Hell, my love." She rubbed her hand up and down his arm. "You're allowed to be pathetic every now and then."

He shook his head. "Not if I'm going to be the Fuhrer."

"_Especially_ if you're going to be the Fuhrer. Moments of weakness are normal, Roy. They're _human_. And I don't know about you, but I've had just about enough of Fuhrers who aren't human."

For a moment he was still. Then she felt him smile.

"Thanks, Lieutenant."

"No problem, Colonel. Come on, let's get some rest."

Riza punched her pillow a few times to soften it before turning off the light and settling down onto her back. Roy grinned at her ferocity and threw his arm across her waist, stretching out beside her. Neither of them mentioned the fact that Riza had not recovered them with the sweaty sheets; she did not want to embarrass him further, and they were both plenty warm without them.

"Just for the record," Roy murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to her collarbone, "I like being called 'my love' much better than I like being called 'Colonel.'"

"I'll keep that in mind." She smiled, patting his shoulder. "Goodnight, Roy."

"Goodnight, Riza."

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**Because in my head, Roy really _does _call her Riza when they're alone together. **

**Reviews are welcomed and much appreciated!**


	2. Tryst

**Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.**

**Well, that rating changed quickly! This collection of drabbles is now rated M, because this piece got away from me and became…well, rather smutty. ****Enjoy the Ling/Lan Fan goodness!**

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Lan Fan crouched in the shadows of the throne room, poised to pounce at the first sign of danger. Was she expecting any? No. Ling Yao was meeting with his advisors, a dozen saggy old men whose reflexes were too slow to allow them to harm even the mosquitoes—the little devils were _everywhere_ this time of year—sucking the blood from their gnarled hands. But still, Lan Fan was prepared to defend His Excellency. It was her duty to do so…no matter how bored she was by the current discussion of trade agreements. Honestly, sometimes she wished that someone _would_ try to attack the Xing Emperor, if only to give Lan Fan something interesting to do.

At least, Lan Fan thought, Ling seemed to be bored as well. His jaw was slack and his eyes were glazed over; he didn't seem to be comprehending a single word his advisors were saying. The sight of him like this made Lan Fan smile beneath her mask. She knew that Ling would rather be outdoors, practicing with his sword in the training yard or visiting one—or five—of his favorite restaurants, but His Excellency always put his country first. Lan Fan admired him for that.

She, however, was growing impatient. Because of these endless meetings, it had been three days since she and Ling had last snuck away for a bit of time alone together. She knew that it was unwise, getting used to such trysts; one day soon, Ling was going to have to begin producing dozens of heirs with dozens of women, none of whom would be Lan Fan. She knew that he would eventually break her heart. But she couldn't help but fall willingly into his arms whenever he shot her that certain look—that look that said, "I want you _now_," that look that made her feel powerless and ravenous all at once. His scent was as addictive as opium. His touch was like aloe on a burn. And she wanted him too. Right or wrong, she wanted him.

Finally, the advisors were standing up; the meeting had adjourned. His Excellency rose and stretched while the old men shuffled out the door, and Lan Fan tiptoed gleefully out from the shadows. However, she waited until the door had closed behind the last ancient advisor to approach Ling.

"What an, er…_exciting_ meeting, Your Excellency."

"Yeah. Almost as exciting as watching paint dry." Ling rolled his eyes before gesturing to his formal ponytail. "Help me get this out, would you? They always tie it so tight…"

Lan Fan stepped forward to assist Ling in removing the ribbon from his hair. A few calculated pulls later, Ling's hair was loose and his spiky bangs were back in their proper place over his left eye. He smiled at Lan Fan—or her mask, rather—in thanks and then shed the heavy traditional robe he had donned for the meeting; beneath it, he wore pair of loose black trousers and no shirt. Lan Fan groaned inwardly at the sight of him; was he _trying_ to drive her crazy?

"Walk with me?" Ling asked, and Lan Fan's hands began to tremble when she saw the way he was suddenly leering at her; she knew what he meant. Both nervous and exhilarated, she nodded.

"Of course, Your Excellency."

The two set off, passing through the back door of the throne room and into one of the Royal Palace's long hallways, toward the hidden place that they had become so familiar with as of late: the windowless alcove near the library where they went to shed their titles and responsibilities and clothing, where they didn't have to worry about prying eyes. Lan Fan walked two paces behind Ling, as was appropriate when walking with the Emperor of Xing. She glanced down at his hand, wanting so badly to intertwine her fingers—automail or flesh, it didn't matter—with his. But she couldn't. Not here. Not yet. She settled for brushing a mosquito off of his upper arm.

"Thanks," he murmured, glancing back at her with those wolfish eyes of his. "Are you well, Lan Fan?"

"Yes. Thank you, Your Excellency," Lan Fan intoned. Then she lowered her voice and growled brazenly, "But I'll be better in a moment."

Lan Fan didn't miss the desperation in Ling's voice when he whispered, "Almost there."

And they were. On the wall just up ahead hung an antique tapestry—a tapestry that shielded their secret meeting place. Lan Fan checked the hallway—left, right, up, down—and, finding no potential witnesses, dove silently behind the tapestry. Ling followed a moment later.

And then she was on him. Lan Fan tore off her mask and crashed her lips against his in the dark, locking her arms around his neck, shoving him up against the wall. He laughed, returning her kiss with equal vigor. One of his hands moved to the small of her back, splaying out, holding her taught against him, while his other hand immediately went to work unfastening the buttons of her shirt. Lan Fan didn't protest; she knew that it was only a matter of time before someone noticed that the Young Lord had gone missing. Besides, she didn't require much foreplay, not when she spent so much of her time longing for moments like this one. She helped him with the last few buttons, even unwound her chest wrap for him, and whined low in her throat when he cupped one of her breasts in his hand, circling his thumb over the peak, still kissing her deeply.

She needed him so much closer.

Lan Fan kicked off her boots before reaching down and untying Ling's trousers with expert precision; he groaned as her hand brushed against his erection, and barely a second passed before he was roughly yanking her leggings and underwear to the ground; she stepped out of them, and the sound of the dozen kunai in her pockets clattering against the stone floor caused them both to giggle nervously. Lan Fan's laughter died in her throat, however, when Ling's hands gripped the backs of her thighs and lifted her off the ground. Her legs locked around his waist and he pressed her back against the wall, rocking his pelvis against hers, eliciting a gasp from her as an electric current tore through her body. He kept this up until she was whimpering, until she could take no more.

"Ling," she begged, "please."

Kissing her hungrily, Ling positioned himself at her entrance and thrust into her all at once. She cried out against his lips, a strangled moan that sounded more animal than human.

"Are you all right?" he whispered.

She nodded, kissing him again, rolling her hips against his in encouragement; he began to move, and soon the two of them had found a rhythm. Lan Fan surrendered herself to her senses then, to the sound of Ling's breathy noises, to the feeling of the coil tightening deep within her, to the taste of his lips, to the knowledge that right now, in this hidden alcove, they were not master and servant, but simply man and woman. And all too soon and not quickly enough, the coil snapped. For a moment, Lan Fan was immobile; her head fell back, mouth open in a silent scream. Then she shook, breathing hard as tremor after pleasurable tremor wracked her frame. She managed to stay with Ling, moving in tandem with him until he too tensed and released, burying his face in her shoulder to stifle his final cry.

They kissed in the afterglow, unhurried, as their breathing slowed. Lan Fan cupped Ling's face in her hands, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of the day in this quiet, dark alcove with the man she cared so deeply for. But that was impossible. She knew that, and Ling did too. So she squeezed her eyes shut and spent a long moment memorizing the feeling of his lips against hers before reluctantly asking him to put her down.

She dressed quickly and pulled her back into its usual bun, attempting to ignore how suddenly cold and empty she felt. She had a job to do. She could not afford to be distracted by her emotions. But still, her voice wavered as she whispered, "I'll go out first. If the coast is clear, I'll whistle."

"Right."

Lan Fan donned her mask and peeked out from behind the tapestry. The hallway was clear, she was relieved to see. She slipped out into the hallway, whistling for Ling to follow. And soon they were walking again, with Lan Fan back in her proper place behind the Emperor of Xing.

"Where to, Your Excellency?" she asked, her voice flat.

"The kitchens, of course," Ling murmured, grinning sheepishly at her over his shoulder. "I've...worked up an appetite."

At that, Lan Fan couldn't help but smile.

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**Ugh, that ending.**

**Thanks for reading! Please review! **


	3. Light

**Holy shortest thing I've ever written, Batman!**

**I was bored and consumed by EdWin feels, so here you go :)**

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_3. Light_

Her hair splayed out across her pillow as she slept, bathed in the dawn light shining in through the window of their bedroom. Edward, who always woke much earlier than she, ran his fingers through the yellow tendrils, his touch feather light as not to disturb her peaceful slumber. He loved her hair. He always had, even before he had known that he loved the rest of her too. It was the color of butter, of sunshine, of the flowers his mother had once grown in her garden—of home. In more menacing times, he had thought often of the way it looked whipping across her shoulders in the Resembool wind, of the way it always managed to escape her bandana when she was working with her tools, of the way it hung heavy down her back when she emerged from the bathtub or the swimming hole… He had thought of her, and it had kept him sane. And it still did, although now he could simply reach out and touch her whenever he felt himself slipping into the dark.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he looked down upon her and marveled, not for the first time, at how truly perfect she was, at how long it had taken him to realize it, at how lucky he was that she had chosen him and not some other, taller, less broken man. Part of him would always be in awe of her. But awe was good. Awe kept him on his toes, trying his damnedest to make her happy, because he knew that losing her would be the end of him. He raised his hand and traced her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. In her sleep, she smiled. And so did Edward.

Because Winry was light, and she chased his demons away.

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**Thanks for reading! Please leave a review-they inspire me!**


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